


Meleth

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:21:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27865309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Glorfindel tracks down his lord.
Relationships: Elrond Peredhel/Lindir
Comments: 17
Kudos: 107





	Meleth

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Erestor’s fussy and difficult but wise, so when he sends Glorfindel out, Glorfindel goes, even though he’s the captain of the guard and should ride at his own discretion. He doesn’t think one evening without their lord is so very worrisome—in his time, lords rode out like soldiers to fell any danger that came near. The beasts that roam outside Imladris are small and unassuming, no real threat to any elf with any skill, and Glorfindel knows Elrond is so much more talented in battle than his gentle demeanor would suggest. Surely he’s alright, simply dawdling beyond their borders for reasons of his own, and he’ll be back when he wishes, perfectly safe and sound. Yet Glorfindel mounts his horse and heads up the mountain path where he was last seen, hoping to find him before nightfall. 

It doesn’t take long to pick up on his trail—Erestor himself could track their lord down if he wasn’t so quick to delegate to Glorfindel. There’s no other sign of horses but twin footprints in the grass, feather-light but just enough for Glorfindel’s keen eyes to spot. He follows alongside them through the mounting rocks and growing trees, into the forest of knotted trunks and too-thick foliage, until all but a little light is left through their softly swaying boughs. The evening air is cool but pleasant, brisk, rich—in some ways, it’s a delight to be out in the wilderness again, amongst all the elements, though of course Glorfindel dearly loves the comforts of his lord’s home. When the terrain becomes too much, too overgrown with fallen logs and steep with slippery hills, Glorfindel leaves his steed by a shallow brook and continues on his own. The light dwindles worse, but the path is more obvious with the rougher ground, and Glorfindel can tell he’s close. 

He knows when he’s coming to the edge of the cliff. The air is cleaner, sweeter, colder with the breeze but beckoningly him out into the open. A single owl coos the oncoming night, and the sounds slowly transition from busy birds to thrumming cicadas and crickets. By the time he’s reached the clearing, the stars guide him more than Anor. 

He finds them there, as expected, not just Lord Elrond but his ever-faithful companion, the two of them perched on a fallen log at the edge of the falls. Water trickles past them and roars down into the valley, reflecting the shifting colours of the sky. Their heads are inclined up, gaze no doubt lost amidst the heavens, though Glorfindel can only see their backs and doesn’t stroll forward to round on them. He lingers amongst the trees, because he knows just what he’s found. 

Elrond’s arm shifts and moves around Lindir’s back, hand tucked at his middle. The rings on Elrond’s finger glint like the gems in Lindir’s hair, those dark waves tumbling down to tangle with Elrond’s own. They’re seated so close that it’s hard to tell where Elrond’s burgundy robes end and Lindir’s maroon ones begin. Then Lindir’s head slants onto Elrond’s shoulder, and Elrond gives him a little squeeze that Glorfindel knows is rife with affection. 

His heart swells just from watching them. He knows immediately what’s taken so long, why they’ve lingered; it’s one thing to appreciate nature on one’s own, another to witness the change with a loved one. Glorfindel has often watched Arien disappear over the horizon from the balcony of his quarters, but he knows what Elrond and Lindir see now is ten times as beautiful. He can understand why they came here to experience that alone, though all in Imladris are friends. 

It should be enough to allay Erestor’s fears. Glorfindel thinks of leaving empty-handed, without even alerting them, because this quiet moment should be one for them alone. But Elrond calls without turning, “You may escort us back when we are done, Glorfindel, but I would welcome a few minutes more if you could spare them.”

Lindir tenses at Elrond’s side, glancing back over his shoulder—he clearly didn’t sense their company. He’s a delicate creature, lovely and fair, unequipped with the survival skills that Glorfindel and Elrond have honed over so many years. But he relaxes again when he sees that it is only Glorfindel, and Glorfindel bows his head in respect, answering, “Take as long as you need; I will not trouble you until then.”

Elrond doesn’t say any more, but he doesn’t need to. Lindir turns back and snuggles into Elrond’s side, once again existing with and for only one another. 

Glorfindel has been blessed with such moments in his life. Though the sunset is a poetic masterpiece, Varda’s beauty isn’t for him on this particular night. He gives them privacy with his retreat, trailing back to his waiting horse to enjoy the forest instead, and savour all the glory Yavanna’s grown.


End file.
